<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>good intent by Ghost_Impatiens (Impatiens_capensis)</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29435937">good intent</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impatiens_capensis/pseuds/Ghost_Impatiens'>Ghost_Impatiens (Impatiens_capensis)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Pollen, consent issues that are mostly glossed over, specifically Spiral sex pollen that gives you sexual intrusive thoughts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 16:47:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,814</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29435937</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impatiens_capensis/pseuds/Ghost_Impatiens</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the prompts "curse" and "valentine"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>TMA Valentine's Exchange 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>good intent</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sivan325/gifts">Sivan325</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>brief reference to presumably transmasc imagined anatomy using the word “clitoris”</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was nice of Martin to have given Jon a card. Really, it was. He was being considerate. Jon just wasn’t sure what he’d do with it, now that he had it. He didn’t think he was expected to keep it. The message written inside was the kind of general, perfunctory thing you’d write to a coworker. But it would be rude to throw it out where Martin might see it, right? So he’d just leave it on his desk all day and take it home to discard it, right? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was distracting, though, and he couldn’t help but keep glancing over at it. It was just an abstract pattern, wavy lines arranged just so, so they appeared to be moving. Still, it was mesmerizing, the still rhythm of it. And then it became uncomfortable, because the longer he looked at it, the more he swore the lines turned into human figures grinding against each other. Once he had seen it, it felt so obvious and he couldn’t make it go away. He doubted that’s what Martin had seen, he didn’t think Martin would be that bold. No, it was just an innocent abstract design and Jon was the one making it weird. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He placed a folder over the card so it wouldn’t have to look at it while he was working.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was cross-referencing some documents and taking notes when he noticed that he’d become aroused. At first, he didn’t think anything of it. It was simply his body being inconvenient. All he had to do is focus on his work and he was sure it would go away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only, it didn’t. A passage of text looked vaguely like a hand and his mind fills it in with the image of that hand groping someone’s breast, someone who whines in response. The image was vivid in his head, more so than the vague fantasies that usually come through his mind when he wants to get off. Usually putting mental energy into conjuring such a detailed image would distract him and make it harder to reach orgasm. Contrary to that, his cock responded with interest to the uninvited thought. Then it quickly faded from his mind. He returned to the paragraph and this time nothing happened when he read it, he was fine to continue with his work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was until he picked up his pen and his mind morphed its thin form into a thick clitoris loosely pulled between two of his fingers. He winced and the image disappeared. He continued with his work, but a few notes later his pen reminded him vividly of an outstretched leg, trembling in the air. It distracted him enough that the word he had been writing became completely illegible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried to focus, but it just kept happening. They were only thoughts, but he felt like he was losing control over himself. It was like that card had hijacked his brain and was turning him into a pervert. Even worse, his body was going along with it and he’d become painfully hard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon sat at his desk with his face buried in his arms, hoping that the absence of visual stimuli could at least stop the onslaught of images. That what had come over him would pass soon. It didn’t work. His mind only used the blank canvas to paint a picture of several people fornicating together. Still, he stayed with his head down. Unable to stay focused on work, that was all he could do, short of taking his dick out and masturbating at his office desk in the middle of the day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Actually, the thought of just rubbing one out was tempting. He wouldn’t normally, but it would be preferable if he could get this out of his system as quickly as possible and move on with his day. Right. He had tissues in his office already, good for if he catches a cold or in case someone brings in another smiling apple that he doesn’t want to touch. He’d just dirty one of those tissues and get right back to work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He undid his fly and pushed down his trousers and pants, leaving them bunched around his knees. An image came to him of a stranger kneeling at his feet, holding his crumpled trousers like they had been the one to pull them down, looking up at him with eyes blown wide and lips parted. He grunted dismissively at the imagined person and took his dick in his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon was just getting into a good rhythm, when his office door opened. His eyes snapped open and his blood went cold. Martin was there in the doorway and then rapidly approaching. “Hey Jon, I—wait, Jon, what are—OH.” Martin covered his mouth and froze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon let go of his dick and turned his gaze quickly down to his desk. The folder he knew the card was underneath should’ve looked nothing like a person, yet it brought to mind someone’s bare back. Well, never mind that. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—I should’ve locked the door.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you probably should’ve, if you didn’t want anyone joining you for this </span>
  <em>
    <span>romantic occasion</span>
  </em>
  <span>. So, um, I’ll just be going now,” Martin said and started on his way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon sighed. “None of this would’ve happened, if it weren’t for that card,” he muttered grumpily to himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of leaving, Martin stopped at the door and turned to look at Jon incredulously. “Are really trying to blame </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> for this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” That was what it sounded like he’d said, wasn’t it? Jon felt so stupid. “I wouldn’t—It’s not your fault. That was just… things started. Nothing to do with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin raised an eyebrow. “You aren’t making any sense. Explain what you mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought the card looked like it portrayed… certain acts. Sex. It looked like sex. And once I’d seen it, I started seeing it everywhere. And my body apparently decided </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the time to react to this. And I just wanted it to stop.” Jon’s eyes stayed fixed on the folder, overlapped with the body he’d mentally conjured steadily rising and falling in place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A brief, silent moment passed. “You seem distressed about this,” Martin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon bit his lip. “Normally when I’m... inconveniently aroused, I can just ignore it and it will go away. It doesn’t have to become an issue. But it’s like the card has control over me. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> ignore it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is a problem.” Martin swallowed audibly. “Do you think it would be useful to you to have someone to help with that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon shook his head. “You should leave. That was… I was behaving inappropriately and you shouldn’t have had to see anything. Don’t try to take responsibility for this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s not that. I’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> to help,” Martin said pointedly. “Err, if that’s alright with you, that is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” A pause. “Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin laughed a tiny bit. “Well, yes, otherwise I wouldn’t be offering.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon was relieved. He didn’t understand why, but Martin wasn’t mad at him. Jon was still aching to get off. And Martin not only wasn’t mad, he wanted to help. Jon inhaled sharply. “Well, if that’s what you want… Yes, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon’s chair was already moved back and away from his desk, but he turned sideways in his chair to give Martin better access to him. He hoped that it was helpful, anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin locked the door and approached Jon. He stopped about a meter away and looked over Jon with consideration. “Does it work for you if I suck you off?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Layered on top of the real and entirely decent Martin, Jon’s mind produced an image of Martin casually masturbating where he stood. Jon blinked rapidly and tried to gather his mind together enough to properly respond to Martin. “Um, yes.” Jon realized that he didn’t sound as solidly affirmative as he meant it. “Yes it does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin kneeled in front of Jon and spread his thighs with his hands. “Tell me if I should do anything differently or if you need me to stop, alright?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon nodded firmly with a soft grunt and only then did Martin go ahead and put his mouth around Jon’s cock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Less a matter of actively choosing not to and more so that he’d been preoccupied with work and bad at making and maintaining relationships of any sort, it had been years since the last time Jon had partnered sex of any kind. He’d kind of forgotten just how good it could feel. Martin worked his mouth up and down Jon’s dick slowly and Jon quickly found himself desperate for more. He rested one hand in Martin’s thick, soft hair. “If you could go a little faster…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin picked up his pace and started moving the hand he was using to hold the base of Jon’s dick. Jon wanted so badly to thrust into Martin’s mouth, but instead gripped the edge of his chair and forced himself to stay planted in it. He quickly came in Martin’s mouth, letting out a whine and unthinkingly pulling at Martin’s hair as he tensed up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin slowed to a stop when Jon relaxed. He pulled off of Jon’s dick and swallowed. “Are you feeling better?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon laughed. “Much better. Thank you. Um—how are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing back up, Martin took one of Jon’s tissues and wiped his lips clean while leaving in place his smug little grin. “Tentatively proud of myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon smiled back at Martin. “You should be! And I—I should probably return the favor, shouldn’t I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin shook his head. “I’m alright. It’s—not in the mood for receiving right now. And I don’t want to take advantage of you any more than I already have. I don’t want there to be any chance you feel like you </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to repay me. So just—if you’re still interested later, we can talk about it. But not right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon nodded. He was a bit surprised, but it was a relief, if he was being honest. He needed to pull himself back together before getting to work again. More sex sounded exhausting. “Alright. I-I’ll think about it,” he said and got to cleaning up and re-dressing himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmhm. I, um, I think I’ll go get you something to drink, you could probably use it right now. Do you want water or tea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just water, for now. Thank you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin left and Jon was alone with his thoughts for a moment. Fuck. What had he been thinking, accepting oral sex from his employee? That was beyond inappropriate. And Jon had liked it. He liked that Martin had floated the prospect of doing it again. He was an idiot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He crumpled up the card and threw it out. That was done with. Gone. Right now, all he needed to do was get back to work.<br/>
</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>